Bombardment

Love, nuclear, and otherwise

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Yelloooooooo!

So I’m trying something new today. I wrote a “poem” about a recent dating experience I had. Which interestingly enough correlates to a WW2 novel I’m reading right now.

The book is called Beneath a Scarlet Sky, I highly recommend it. A wonderful story based on the true events that this gentleman went through during WW2, it’s wild! It’s one of those books you just can’t stop reading. I love it when that happens. Anyway, hearing about the massive destruction that the Nazis created to conquer land was an interesting mash-up with this love bombing situation I experienced.

Here we go:

Bombardment 

He said:
You tick off all the boxes for me
You’re everything I’ve been looking for
You’re perfect for me

On the first date
And again on the second

I didn’t believe him
And I believed him

A bomb doesn’t care
Who you are
Where you came from
What brought you there

A bomb wants one thing
– mass destruction

Souls on the ground
Souls intertwined

That’s one way to level the playing field
To start fresh
Since the dawn of time man has done this
Breaking things down to build a better future
What total man thing to do

Unnecessarily blowing shit up
Of pointless pain

It doesn’t have to be this way
– violent creation

New beginnings can start other ways
Building on top of the past
Messily writing over what was already written
Visiting the pain of decimation

Not needing to cause more
Needing to cause less 

To reveal more

I’ve kept my art compartmentalized away from my personal experiences. Of course, the art I make is influenced by my lived experience, it would be impossible not to. But it’s hard for me to incorporate my artistic practice as a way of coping with what’s happening in my life. It feels obvious, but it has not been that way for me.

I lived a whole life as an identified artist. While I was living that life, the art I was producing had nothing to do with me. It had everything to do with maintaining the image of “artist” or creating something that was marketable, sellable, and digestible. Disengenuous.

There was a hell of a lot of self-worth tied into it and little to no actual tie to my internal experience. Writing this piece about this guy today honestly has me feeling far more at peace with it than before.

A poem is a journey for me. I know how it starts, with the seed of an idea, and I have no idea how it’s going to end. How they usually end feels true and buttoned up for me. In this case, I don’t want disruption in my life like that. It’s nice to be clear on that.

The subject matter also touches on some feelings I’m processing perpetually about war, conflict, violence, and otherwise. The fresh catastrophes that men cause are always the hardest to process. Mostly because I identify as female and identified as straight for most of my life I feel I can see things differently in relation to the cis-gendered opposite sex. I know how beneficial and life-changing softer approaches can be.

Anywhoooooo, I hope you’re having a lovely holiday season. I wish you all the best and give you a big hug. I appreciate your eyeballs reading this far and your neurons absorbing my words, that attention and internalization are everything to me.

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Thank you, you mean more to me than you know.

Alex <3